


Angels are Watching Over You

by cardinalwrites



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, This Is Sad, canonverse, post s12, tag required courtesy of manifestwings, this started as a sad thing but then not so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 21:56:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11609742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalwrites/pseuds/cardinalwrites
Summary: It started as a harmless note in the back of an old scripture Dean had found tucked behind two full bookshelves in the bunker library.There are suspicions and written testimonials of angels being the most corporeal when the hour and the minute match. A small incantation and ritual can be cast to bring the voices of God’s warriors closer.





	Angels are Watching Over You

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a conversation I had with a friend about the "Angels are Watching Over You" Line and then he told me this idea about how angels are closest to us at times where numbers are similar on the clock
> 
> Thus.....
> 
> This was born.
> 
> I'm sorry in advance.

It started as a harmless note in the back of an old scripture Dean had found tucked behind two full bookshelves in the bunker library.

        

         _There are suspicions and written testimonials of angels being the most corporeal when the hour and the minute match. A small incantation and ritual can be cast to bring the voices of God’s warriors closer._

 

         Ingredients had followed that note, ingredients that Dean knew they had plenty of in the bunker. It was a lead, even if it was a bad one.

         “Well, we did know the whole eleven-eleven wish-upon-a-star deal had to start somewhere,” Sam had noted when Dean had brought him the book. “But Dean… I don’t know if that’s going to bring him back.”

         “It’s a start and a way. If angels are closer when the clocks line up then you better believe I’m gonna do something about it,” Dean’s mind was made up, his voice gruff. Screw Sam if he didn’t believe it.

         It had been two months since that night. Two entire months since his mother was lost to the world as Dean knew it and he watched his best friend die. He didn’t talk for the first two weeks after it had happened, his head thrown deep into the very last thing he hated the most in order to figure out a way to bring Cas back—to just talk to him again. Because, really, that’s what Dean wanted the most.

         He wanted his best friend back. He wanted… he wanted to set things right between them.

         So, research it became. For two months until he found the note. From that point, it became a cycle. Every similar minute time of every day from that point on, Dean would make himself go into Castiel’s room, the room he’d been dreading entering since that day. Not because he didn’t want to go in, but rather because he wasn’t sure if he would be able to ever come back out.

         But as he took in Castiel’s form still on the bed, his features never aging or deteriorating in the slightest. It was that sign that gave Dean something he had always deprived himself of.

It gave Dean hope that Cas, wherever he was, was still fighting.

         And so, Dean took the seat next to the bed, prepared the ingredients in the incantation, waited for the times to sync, and started to speak. Every day since followed a very similar pattern:

 

         12:12 AM

 

         “…Cas? I don’t know if you can hear me,” Dean started. “But I’m pulling at straws here and this seemed like it could work. There was this note in one of the bunker books about how people used to communicate with angels and it didn’t seem to say that angels needed to be in Heaven, so… if you’re there, I could really use the push here.”

         No answer.

 

         1:11 AM

 

         “It’s been two months. You’re still here. You’ve still got a body. Sam wanted to give you a hunter’s funeral, but… not yet. You need some skin and bones if you’re gonna come back from wherever the hell you are…”

         No answer.

 

         2:22 AM

 

         “I let you down. I screwed the pooch hard with the plan and…” his voice wavered at that. “…And you paid for it. You… you shouldn’t have died. You can’t die. I don’t want you to.”

         No answer.

 

         3:33 AM

 

         “I still remember when you’d say stupid shit and I’d try to tell you otherwise, but if I’m being honest I didn’t mind it when you asked me how to cook or how to drive or when you wanted to be a hunter. I liked talking to you. I’ve always liked talking to you.”

         No answer.

        

         4:44 AM

 

         “You know, I almost made myself believe you were just asleep when we brought you back. Sam disappeared going off about Jackass, but I just stayed in this room that first night...” Dean’s eyes were somber. “Guess I kinda get why you did the whole stare-at-me-sleeping gig. I mean, it’s still creepy, but… I get it now. Though I’d really like you to just come back and punch me for ever admitting that.”

         No answer.

        

         5:55 AM

 

         “I miss you, Cas. God, I miss you so damn much,” At some point, his voice had cracked completely in those early morning hours.  

         No answer.

 

         10:10 AM

 

         “Sam found a case up somewhere out of state. He’s going to grab it, but I think you can hear me in there somehow. When I came back in I swear your hand wasn’t folded like that. No, don’t ask me about food. I’m fine. I’m right where I wanna be.”

         No answer.

 

         11:11 AM

        

         “I used to never wish on these kinds of things, least of all this time shit that apparently is important at this exact time now. I’m talking to you, Cas. And wherever you are I know you have to somehow be listening. You’re a fighter, and your body’s still here.” Dean moved to rest his hand on the bed, Castiel’s own having been placed on his chest. He truly did look peaceful, years shaved off his features even if there was no light to brighten them right now. “You always did hate waking up when you were human..” Dean stopped. “We’re finding a way. We always find a way. We’ll get coffee for you up and ready when you do get up.”

         No answer.

 

         12:12 PM

 

         “I can see how Sam looks at me, you know. He knows something’s wrong and he knows what it is but he doesn’t push. You always said that was something that was good about Sam but I sucked at: knowing when to push people. Well, let me tell you, you sucked at doing that yourself.” Dean’s laugh was dry and hoarse. “But you did know when people needed you. You always came, even if it hurt you the most…”

         No answer.

 

         1:11 PM

 

         “I need you, Cas.”

         No answer.

 

         2:22 PM

 

         “I need you here. Now.”

         No answer.

 

         3:33 PM

 

         “You’re more than my best friend. You’re family.”

 

         4:44 PM

 

         “You’re a Winchester.”

 

         5:55 PM

 

         “And you deserve to come back so we—so I can give you that and make you see that.”

 

         10:10 PM

 

         “You said you loved us when you thought Ishim had won. You… you don’t know how much we feel the same way. You don’t know how much I feel that way.”

 

         11:11 PM

        

         “But in order to make that work, I need you alive and walking, dammit!” Tears that Dean had been fighting back the entire day of incantations upon incantations and the small window to speak to Cas would almost always erupt in the smaller moments towards the end of the day.

 

         12:12 AM

 

         “Come back to me.” His hands rested over Castiel’s, the pot with all of the ingredients of the day almost kicked aside in the heat of the moment. Castiel’s hands were cold to the touch, growing colder with every day but never turning blue or deteriorating as months passed. Dean had almost begun to forget how those hands once were hot enough to burn into his shoulder, how the man that laid on the bed had saved his life too many times over for Dean to just let him go now.

         He squeezed Castiel’s hands, his fingers finding their way to completely envelop the other man’s. “Just… come back…”

         He had a buzzer that would tell him when the minute was up, and with it the process would start over again at the next interval. When the timer did go off, however, instead of Dean retracting his hands and cleaning up the supplies around him, he stayed. It had been a few weeks of this already, the supplies running low and Dean having tried every concoction and combination imaginable to try and get them to. Some produced smoke; others emanated a gas after the minute, and one almost made Dean choke at the smell—not because of how bad it was, but rather because it was the smell of ozone that he’d come to associate with Castiel. Every try ended the same after, however.

         After what felt like hours sitting there, his head bowed as he held Castiel’s hands, Dean made himself attempt to get up. He needed to work to get more ingredients to keep going, to find another wa—

         Something squeezed his hand. It was faint to a point where Dean thought he was hallucinating, but when Dean raised his eyes to where his hands joined the angel’s he saw the slightest of movements.

         Castiel’s finger was now on top of Dean’s ring finger. It had moved.

         There was an answer.

**Author's Note:**

> ...Or maybe not so sorry :)
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://www.cardinalwrites.tumblr.com)


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